


Stakeout

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2013 [11]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just not a stakeout without Wade doing something horribly inappropriate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stakeout

_I, I will be king. And you, you will be queen. Though nothing will drive them away. We can be heroes, just for one d--_

Clint reached out and clicked the scan button on the radio, abruptly halting Wade's dramatic rendition of Bowie. It wasn't that it was a terrible rendition - and it really was truly awful - as it was the fact that Clint had weird associations with the song and he'd rather not add Wade's interpretive flailing to the list of reasons why he couldn't stand to listen to it. True to form, Wade waited for the radio to find the next station, then jumped right in more or less making up the words to some early 90's adult alternative rock disaster.

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The whole point of a stakeout is that you're supposed to be _quiet_ ," he pointed out; though wishing that Wade would be quiet did about as much good as wishing that naked supermodels rained down from the sky. It would be _nice_ , but it wasn't going to happen.

"But this is my _jam_!" he said, as enthused about the singer's wailing high-pitched cat-in-distress singing as he had been about the previous anthem to generations better left unmentioned.

"You don't even know the words."

"I'd know the words if you left it on the other station," he retorted between phrases of the song, never missing a beat.

Clint reached out and clicked the button again. They hung a little longer in the static airwaves before shuffling to a classic rock station. The sedate sound of Pink Floyd should have put him in a much better mood, had Wade not instantly launched into a tandem of "Did you know that if you synced Dark Side of--"

He flicked the volume knob until the radio shut off, glaring across the front seat at the other man who just stared back at him like he was waiting for Clint to explain why he'd interrupted him. It wasn't that pointed glares had often stopped Wade in the past, but Clint carried exploding arrows and it took Wade a few hours to grow his head back. He had no qualms about using them if it meant that he got some silence out of the mess.

"Wade," he started, staring across the street at the apartment they were supposed to be watching. "Why does Coulson hate me?"

"Did you rearrange his Captain America action figures?" he asked, not missing the point as much as intentionally ignoring it altogether. He narrowed his eyes, "Did you make them do bad things to each other?"

He sighed. "I just don't understand how I keep getting sent out on stealth assignments with someone who has less concept of stealth than a moose."

"Hey!" he retorted. "Moose are majestic fucking creatures, you watch your filthy mouth."

" _Wade_..." he gave a sidelong glance, brows furrowed in frustration. "What can I do to make you shut up for just... twenty minutes?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, face contorting into a look of exaggerated thought, then confusion, then slight distress, and finally back to contemplation again before he shrugged and dragged his hand through his hair, mussing it worse than it already was. He didn't give an answer, not exactly, instead he shoved the Taco Bell wrappers off his lap and leaned across the center console, digging for something along the side of Clint's seat. When he found it, he gave it a sharp tug and the driver's seat went hurtling back until it thumped unhappily against the seat behind it. Wade shoved up the console between the seats and ambled his unruly limbs across towards Clint.

"What the hell are you doing?" Clint demanded, trying to shove Wade back over onto his own side of the car.

Wade managed to get a leg over Clint's lap and straddled him, effectively pinning him in place and halting his protests. "You wanted to know how to get me to shut up," he shrugged. "I am a man of simple means."

"You're a lunatic."

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "That too."

But Clint wasn't really trying that hard to push him away anymore. At first, it had been a natural reaction to someone invading his personal space and now it was... curiosity, maybe? Wondering what the hell Wade was getting at, more like. Once Clint relented under him, Wade shifted forward, hands braced on the back seat as he carefully rolled his hips into place.

And when they were _in_ place, he knew it. Clint bit back a grunt, reluctantly dragging his hands down to settle on Wade's thighs. A very loud part of him couldn't believe that he was really indulging this, and it made sure that the rest of him knew how much of an objection it was still trying to make. That was the soldier, the well-trained part of his mind that knew how to follow orders to the letter and got annoyed when anything was out of place. The part all too willing to entertain this was the boy who'd gotten head from sword-swallowers and rubbed frantically against fire-breathers in the carnival. _It could be interesting_ was a phrase that never failed to get him in trouble, and yet...

If it got him the silence he asked for, who was he really to complain?

He glanced up at Wade, who was waiting for him to make his decision, and rolled his eyes. Wade took that as the only invitation he was ever going to get and pressed down to drag their lips together. The kiss itself wasn't half as surprising as the taste of Red Bull and cinnamon lingering in Wade's mouth, a stark contrast to the stale coffee on Clint's tongue. He grunted against the other man's mouth and shifted his hips under him, trying to get into a better position for this. No good ever came out of rubbing on your zipper, and he wasn't about to get fined for indecent exposure on top of potentially blowing their already thin cover.

Wade didn't care. He kissed like a man who'd had plenty of practice, and Clint wasn't going to complain about the way he rolled his hips and pressed down against him either. The bulge in Wade's jeans nestled against the hollow of Clint's hip, and his managed to fit in the same spot against Wade as well. It was a good fit, both the feel of Wade's mouth easily taking command of his own and the steady, aggressive shift of his hips.

For as quiet as they were meant to be - that was the point Clint had been trying to make all night, anyway - Clint still groaned, uninhibited, against Wade's mouth every time he pressed down hard enough that Clint could get a bit more pressure, more friction. As long as he took for himself as much as Wade got from him, and this stayed evenly-balanced, he felt less like he was having an _interaction_ with someone and more like they were proving mutually beneficial for one another. Wade's sexual exploits were notorious enough that Clint didn't see cause to worry about the consequences, but he did have to worry about Wade letting it slip that they'd rutted against each other in the front of his car during what was _supposed to be_ a covert assignment.

This was what Coulson got for sending a pair of disasters to do something that required patience.

He tipped his head back, teeth sliding against Wade's lower lip as his hands dug into the man's thighs, rolling up beneath him, pressing hard into him in order to gain a little leverage himself. Wade responded in kind, the two of them slipping into a back and forth battle for the upper hand. They kept on like that for a few intensely long minutes - maybe five, maybe ten, knowing that would have required Clint to know how much time had passed between Wade clamoring across the seats and the moment when he finally threw caution to the wind and started giving back. By the time Wade dragged himself back to grunt faintly, body twitching slightly on top of Clint, almost twenty minutes exactly had clicked off from when he first landed in Clint's lap.

He huffed softly, then dipped his head back down for another swift kiss. Wade shoved himself off and flopped back over onto his own seat, one leg still draped carelessly across Clint's lap. He shoved a hand down into the Taco Bell bag for a handful of napkins to clean himself up with.

"Hey..." he muttered, motioning at his own lap where the sign of his arousal was still more than apparent.

Wade grinned. "You asked how to shut _me_ up," he said, "not you."


End file.
